


Possession is Nine Tenths

by daughtershade



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: M/M, Sharing Clothes, Suit Porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-22
Updated: 2013-03-22
Packaged: 2017-12-06 02:24:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/730515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daughtershade/pseuds/daughtershade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Finch starts missing accessories from his wardrobe.  Reese keeps having them on his person.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Possession is Nine Tenths

**Author's Note:**

  * For [leupagus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/leupagus/gifts), [Hello_Tailor](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Hello_Tailor), [thebkwyrm](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=thebkwyrm).



> Bloodoath for Lepagus, Hello_Tailor, and thebkwyrm. Clothes + violent amoral unicorn of justice = happy place.

Another day, another number saved. Harold pulled down and discarded the picture of a young man who had borrowed money from loan sharks to pay his grandfather’s medical debts. Mr. Reese had handled the thugs with his usual flair. It had been a quick case, and Harold was thankful that he could call it an early night. John had already left the library, taking Bear with him. Harold had been worried about Bear getting enough exercise and stimulation since his recent bought of doggy depression. John had offered to take the dog with him on his morning runs, so a couple nights a week Bear went off to stay in the loft, leaving Harold to head home alone. After locking down his systems, Harold reached for his coat. He shouldered it on and adjusted the cuffs, but when he reached up for his scarf, he came up short. The scarf was not on the coat rack. Harold looked around with an annoyed sigh. He was sure he’d placed the scarf on the rack right next to his coat. He checked the desk, his chair, and the surrounding bookcases to no avail. Harold rubbed at his chin. It was an expensive cashmere scarf. He’d hate for it to be lost. Though it didn’t have any sentimental value, it had been the perfect periwinkle blue to match the pinstripes on his current suit. He’d thought himself lucky when he’d spotted it in the store. It wouldn’t be so frustrating except this wasn’t the first item he’d misplaced lately. The Wednesday before last he’d taken off his tie and then couldn’t find where he’d laid it down. It had been a new Italo Ferretti for goodness sake. The worst had been when he’d taken off a set of silver and onyx cufflinks to roll up his sleeves for some heavy coding two nights ago, only to have them vanish. Perhaps his age, injuries, and the stress of the mission were starting to take their toll. Harold pulled up the collar of his coat, and hoped the wind wasn’t too chilly outside.

The next day, Harold dressed to bolster his spirits. He found that he didn’t sleep as well on nights that Bear was with John. To counter his ill mood, he pulled out a deep brown suit, and matched it with a dark cranberry waistcoat. To add some more color he picked a pale lemon yellow tie that had a small diamond pattern in the same cranberry. The yellow was bright and cheery compared to the grey morning that greeted him. He made his way to the library and was pleased to find Bear and a hot cup of tea waiting on him. John must have beaten him by only moments.

“You’re too kind, Mr. Reese.”

“Any time, Harold. Do we have a new number?” John asked.

Harold looked up from the tea, and almost dropped the paper cup. John had yet to take off his overcoat. His usual dark suit was accented by a soft blue shirt, but what drew Harold’s eyes was the periwinkle blue, cashmere scarf wrapped around his neck. It was knotted softly against John’s throat and tucked away under his open shirt collar. The color complemented his eyes, and Harold noted amusement in those baby blues. He looked away to carefully place the cup onto his desk.

“Finch?” John asked.

His voice gave nothing away, but Harold could tell the other man was looking for some sort of reaction. This was just like early on in their relationship, when John had tried following him regularly. He was testing the waters, but Harold couldn’t see why. He decided to ignore the scarf, and whatever game John thought he was playing.

“Not as yet. I’ll be sure to let you know. Don’t let me keep you, if you have other business.”

“I suppose I could check in with Fusco. You’ll keep me posted?”

“As always.”

Once he was alone, Harold sat carefully and booted up his system. Bear came over to sit at his side. Harold frowned at the screen unseeing. What exactly was Mr. Reese up to? He couldn’t make out why the man would take his scarf. It could have just been a simple mistake, but then why was John so amused by the whole thing? He couldn’t make it out. Bear rested his head on Harold’s knee with an admonishing look in his eyes.

“Oh, I’m terribly sorry. Have I been ignoring you?” Harold said, wryly.

Bear gave a soft whine and thumped his tail on the wood floor. Harold gave him a pat, and went to work.

They didn’t receive a number that day, but the following afternoon Harold got the call. John had been out helping Carter with something so they hadn’t seen each other since the scarf incident the previous morning. The new number was an entrepreneur with a well-stocked portfolio and a taste for venture capitalism. Harold posed as fellow investor and discovered that he had accidentally funded a small company that was a front for illegal arms smuggling. The entrepreneur had uncovered the ring’s real purpose and they had opted to kill him to keep him silent. John had been working with Fusco trying to take down the ring before they could act on their plan. Things came to a head at a small tech conference being held downtown. John had infiltrated with his John Rooney alias and took out the assassin while Harold got the victim to safety. When it was all over, Harold met John on the sidewalk outside of the hotel. 

“Mr. Reese, I trust you’re well?” Harold asked.

“You’d think gun runners could hire someone who’s a better shot.”

“Thank goodness for small favors. I hardly think—“ Harold paused in mid-sentence. 

John was wearing his trademark dark suit, but in keeping with his alias he’d actually bothered to wear a tie. He’d bothered to wear _Harold’s_ tie. The Italo Ferretti that he’d lost two weeks ago was around John’s neck. It was somewhat askew after his confrontation with the shooter, but there was no mistaking it. Harold stared at it dumbly.

“Something wrong, Harold?”

“You’re wearing my tie,” he replied, plainly.

“Am I?”

“Don’t be coy, Mr. Reese. It doesn’t suit you. Is there a reason that you keep stealing my things?”

“I wouldn’t say I was stealing them. More like borrowing.”

“This coming from the man that doesn’t break and enter people’s houses, he just ‘visits them when they’re not at home.’”

John smiled.

“Exactly,” he said.

Harold let out a small huff of air. The amusement he’d seen yesterday was even stronger now that he’d called John out. Again he had the feeling that the other man was playing a game. The problem was that Harold didn’t know why or what the rules were.

“If you like my wardrobe so much, I can recommend my tailor.”

“Nah,” John said, turning to walk away, “It wouldn’t be the same.”

They parted company. Harold went back to the library and John went wherever clothes thieves went to when they weren’t stealing. Harold spent the evening coding a new program that would help him cull financial data for connections. He hated having to depend on Leon’s help considering the man couldn’t stay out of trouble. Usually, he got lost in the code when he was programing, but for some reason his mind kept wandering back to John in his tie and John in his scarf. Mr. Reese might as well just get a collar with Harold’s name on it. That thought brought up some rather surprising images that Harold quickly put out of his mind. Bear kept wandering around the stacks looking forlorn. He often did that when John wasn’t around. Harold started to wonder if he was any different. He often checked in with John when it wasn’t strictly necessary. There was something comforting about having that smoky voice on the other end of the line whenever he needed to hear it. And even though John was a protector, often he needed protection of his own. The self-sacrificing streak in his friend often kept Harold up nights. He’d vowed early on that this was a partnership, for better or worse. If it made John feel better to wear Harold’s things, who was he to argue? If Harold took comfort in him, perhaps John took some comfort as well.

The next day there was no new number, but late in the afternoon, John called in to check. Harold paused after their usual chatter.

“John, how do you feel about an early supper?”

“What did you have in mind?”

“That new bistro I was telling you about the other day. Perhaps we could give it a try?”

“I’ll swing by around six.”

At a quarter to six, Harold straightened up his desk. He fussed with his jacket and waistcoat, before finally perching on his chair to wait. Bear had been taken out earlier, so that they wouldn’t have to hurry back. John showed up in a black suit that accentuated his height. The white shirt underneath was crisp, and the look was completed with a thinner black tie. Most men would have come across looking like an undertaker, but John Reese was not most men. With his overcoat slung casually over his forearm, he looked like he’d just stepped off a runway.

“You ready to go?” John asked.

Harold nodded and followed the other man back to the street. They shared a slow moving cab as it drifted through the evening traffic. The trip was quiet with neither of them bothering to fill the silence. At the restaurant, they were whisked to a small table crowded amongst others. It was still early for the dinner rush so they didn’t have to brush elbows with anyone just yet. The waiter disappeared with their coats hopefully to return. Harold was getting situated when something shiny caught his eye. As John reached for the menu in front of him, there was a slight glint at his wrist. He found himself staring as John read the menu. The silver and onyx cufflinks that had gone missing no longer were. Through ordering, eating, and the light conversation, Harold’s eyes kept getting drawn back to John’s wrists. He had to have been obvious about it, but John didn’t say a word. The meal was passible. His companion seemed to enjoy it more than he had. This was probably due to his distraction. They caught another cab, and as they pulled into traffic again, Harold felt the need to apologize.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t better company this evening.”

“You’re always good company, Harold.”

He turned awkwardly to look at John in the passing headlights.

“I think you’re probably the first to ever think so.”

“Don’t sell yourself short.”

“First rule of finance,” Harold said, distractedly.

He reached out and took John’s wrist in his hand, running his thumb over the offending cufflinks. Slowly, John shifted his hand so he could lace his fingers through Harold’s. He could feel the callouses and scars brushing against his own softer palm. For some reason that made the tightness in his chest ease. Harold leaned back into the seat. John watched him a moment before giving the cabby another address. It was a corner near the loft. His eyes cut over to look at Harold as if in question. Harold squeezed his hand in answer. The corner of John’s mouth lifted in a small smile. It wasn’t his usual smirk. There was something softer there that Harold wanted to explore.

Harold said, “I should apologize again.”

“I told you it was fine.”

“No, not that. I’m sorry it took me so long. I’m usually quicker on the uptake than this.”

John tilted his head as if to shrug.

“I’m in no hurry.”

Harold still wasn’t completely sure why John wanted to wear his things. Perhaps it had been to get his attention, which had worked rather well. Maybe it was because after all they’d shared, a tie wasn’t all that important in the grand scheme of things. Maybe John just wanted the rest of the world to see him as Harold’s. (He was far from another possession, no matter what anyone might think.) In the end it didn’t really matter. John had gone without for too long. Harold had the means to give him anything, but apparently John had a simpler taste. Harold would give him this, and in return take something for himself as well. Neither of them had any illusions that their chosen work would end well for them. For now they had each other, for better or worse.

And the scarf suited John better anyway.


End file.
